The Voice...of the Voiceless

Only Ryan Gosling in Drive or serial killers wear those gloves. will.i.am is neither, so take them off.

The pop industry is - and I obviously speak from vast experience - a fickle business. Nobody wants to buy a single made by someone who looks like Yoda's arsecrack, nor would they really care much for a rap single produced by Jay-Z, but performed by a 300 year-old woman with a wonky hip.

Talent is not everything in the pop world; anyone who gets the word 'slizzard' into a song is obviously not talented.

Yet the BBC has decided to spunk several suitcases worth of cash on The Voice, a hugely popular worldwide talent show format that prides itself on showcasing the talented. There was a moment during tonight's opening show where they played Noah and the Whale's 'L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N' (yes, I will punctuate it) as some poor, reasonably talented soul was rejected by a man with the same haircut as Astro Boy.

I thought the lyrics 'you've got more money than sense my friend' were rather fitting.

As the incredibly patronising intro proceeded to explain, each of the four judges has their back turned to the contestant (an obvious metaphor for the mass exodus of expectant fans later on in the series) and can only decide whether to take through the act based purely on what they hear. This means that all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures can stand on the stage, belt out a note perfect rendition of Aretha Franklin's 'Respect' through their third nipple and progress to future stages being told they could become a pop star.

If a judge turns round, they become the contestants mentor. If more than one judge turns round, the power is in the act's hand (Take Me Out) and they can choose who they want to work with (Dragon's Den). The judges then start boasting who's penis is the biggest in the hope they can woo the one with power (The Apprentice).

Obviously its very difficult for me to criticise a format which has been sold to so many countries even Madagascar is hooked on its own version. But I see a number of problems with The Voice.

Number one. The judges. There's Tom Jones. There's Jessie J. There's William (Noah and the Whale used up my quota of fullstops for this post). And then there's the guy from the Script. It's like the BBC hired three judges, remembered they'd be slaughtered in the House of Commons and The Daily Mail if they spent anymore of the taxpayer's money trying to get Slash, so just picked someone slightly obscure. Who was on the backup list? The lead singer from Scouting for Girls?

And then there's William. Quite dull. Silly haircut. Constantly wearing a golf glove. And will not shut up about Michael Jackson. Yet somehow worth £500,000 a series. If he turned up dressed like he was in Tron, then I'd perhaps let this fact pass me by. But he doesn't, so he annoys me.

Number two. Its a bit dull. Nobody really likes watching an hour and a half's worth of telly where everyone is better than you. We like reality TV because we get to watch the bottom rung of society's ladder make fools of themselves in front of the nation. Its a modern day colosseum. Audiences baying for the feeble to be humiliated as they cackle like hyenas, while Emperor Cowell sends reams of hopefuls to be executed. Now I mention it, I'd quite like to see William mauled by a tiger to the tune of 'Where Is The Love'.

...to Fame Academy with you cretins.

So to sit and watch a TV show where everyone is actually quite good isn't as entertaining as it should be. It was only when I watched Britain's Got Talent afterwards, observing a gender-confused German unwrap himself like a human Ferrero Rocher, did I find myself smiling. And laughing.

'I remember these emotions' I thought. An entertainment programme entertaining me. Who'd have thought it?

Number three. Why make such a big deal of aesthetics? At the end of every audition during The Voice, the judges asked them 'why did you come on The Voice?' It's such a cringey, egotistical question; it's like asking someone at the end of a candle-lit dinner 'why did you come on a date with me?' Just horrible.

Every act replied 'because you can't see me'. And each of the judges nodded, as if it say: 'Good answer, because if I'd seen you before, I'd have asked a servant to stand in front of me to shield my eyes from your horrendous face.' For a show that's only focus was talent, it didn't half bang on about looks.

The thing about talent shows is talent prevails. Regardless. A prime example was Britain's Got Talent tonight. As 17 year-old Jonathan Antoine walked onto the stage, with a striking resemblance to Hurley from Lost, you could see the audience's expectations disappear. Even Simon Cowell whispered 'just when you thought it couldn't get any worse.' But then he belted out a quite mesmerising rendition of The Prayer and all was forgotten. Now he's undoubtedly - regardless that its week one - one of the favourites to win the competition.

So why do you need a whole competition that makes such a big deal over this fact?

Pop music is not just about talent. There aren't too many unattractive pop stars out there and if it was just about raw talent, why does Susan Boyle now look like Susan Boyle's younger more attractive sister? Its naive to think someone who has a face shaped like a Quaver is going to become an international superstar. We like pretty faces, which is why I guarantee the person who eventually wins The Voice could've quite easily won The XFactor, rendering the whole process utterly pointless. And not half as unique as the BBC accountants want you to believe.

Although its presented by somone who's costing us half a million quid to turn up and swivel around in a chair. I suppose you've got to stand out somehow.